


joining up the pieces (together making one)

by 19tozier (lucashemwow)



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Richie Tozier, Cock Warming, Eddie Kaspbrak Cries During Sex, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, M/M, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Richie Tozier Cries During Sex, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Rimming, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Richie Tozier, Soul Bond, Telepathic Bond, porn with very slight plot, vaguely dom/sub w soft dom eddie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:35:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26650783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucashemwow/pseuds/19tozier
Summary: When Richie was young, very young, he remembers wondering what sex with his bondmate would be like. It would come as no surprise to anyone around him that he’s been idly curious about sex since before he really learned how to tie his shoes, but it goes deeper than that in ways he doesn’t think he could ever explain to anyone else. His parents used to coo over the feeling when they thought he wasn’t listening: the certainty of knowing this person was yours forever, the pleasure of being inside of someone’s head, feeling what they felt. The knowledge that this person would love you despite whatever they might find inside of you.And then Richie had met Eddie at the ripe old age of ten whole years old and felt the way something in his chest clicked into place, and he stopped being terrified of someone else seeing the hurried mess of his thoughts. He’d felt the tentative press of Eddie’s mind against his and wondered how he’d ever lived without this.He wonders the same thing now, forty years old, knees spread wide on the bed in the shitty Townhouse, Eddie kneeling behind him for the first time in nearly three decades.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 185





	joining up the pieces (together making one)

**Author's Note:**

> title from kodaline's _the one_ , but matt johnson and john adams' cover
> 
> it's not relevant to the plot at all, but in this universe stan is alive because i said so :-)

When Richie was young, very young, he remembers wondering what sex with his bondmate would be like. It would come as no surprise to anyone around him that he’s been idly curious about sex since before he really learned how to tie his shoes, but it goes deeper than that in ways he doesn’t think he could ever explain to anyone else. His parents used to coo over the feeling when they thought he wasn’t listening: the certainty of knowing this person was yours forever, the pleasure of being inside of someone’s head, feeling what they felt. The knowledge that this person would love you despite whatever they might find inside of you. 

And then Richie had met Eddie at the ripe old age of ten whole years old and felt the way something in his chest clicked into place, and he stopped being terrified of someone else seeing the hurried mess of his thoughts. He’d felt the tentative press of Eddie’s mind against his and wondered how he’d ever lived without this. 

He wonders the same thing now, forty years old, knees spread wide on the bed in the shitty Townhouse, Eddie kneeling behind him for the first time in nearly three decades. 

_Comfy?_ Eddie asks him, soothing in the face of everything else. Despite the days he has had to get used to it again, Richie still gasps at the feel of Eddie’s thoughts intertwined with his. 

Eddie hums, one hand cupping the inside of Richie’s thigh and coaxing him into a deeper stretch. Richie trembles at the brief touch, the first in a while, and feels a whine rumble out of his throat. 

Eddie makes a pleased noise, his contentment rippling over their bond, and something in Richie’s chest burns to feel it too. And then he burns hotter, deeper, when Eddie’s arousal seeps through too. Suddenly, the thickening of Eddie’s cock is the only thing he can feel, see, taste, smell. 

A laugh coaxes out of Eddie’s chest, his hand smoothing over Richie’s thigh again. “Getting shy on me?” he murmurs. His fingers dig in, just a bit.

Richie shudders, presses back into the touch. He can feel the heavy weight of Eddie’s eyes sliding down his back, over the curve of his ass and down to— 

He squirms, can’t even let himself think it. He and Eddie had only done this a handful of times, a lifetime ago, fumbling and over-eager at sixteen, and it was as overwhelming then as it is now. But now he has twenty-seven years of insecurity beneath his belt, twenty-seven long years cold and alone without his bondmate there to remind him that he was allowed to find the good within himself. Twenty-seven agonizing years denying who he is and trying to survive with the aching hole in his heart left behind when Eddie had left Derry and taken a part of Richie with him. 

Eddie whines when he feels where Richie’s head has gone, tipping forward to press his forehead into the small of Richie’s back. Richie can’t even appreciate the hot breath against his hole because Eddie’s thoughts are right there, twining warm and close around his own, as wrapped together as their bodies are too. It should be stifling, maybe is a little bit, but it’s Eddie and this closeness hasn’t been shared in years, and, and, _and_ —

 _I’m so sorry,_ Eddie whispers to him, over and over, and Richie aches to feel the sorrow behind it. There’s rage there too, at the world and at his mother and at the clown, for tearing them apart. And guilt, thick cloying guilt. _Richie, honey, I’m so fucking_ sorry. 

It’s hard, in this moment, to remember where Eddie ends and he begins, to not let himself sink entirely into the press of Eddie’s thoughts against his own. But he forces himself out of it, grapples until he can find Eddie’s hand and thread their fingers together. 

“Not your fault,” he gasps out loud, so Eddie can hear the weight of them and commit them to memory. Then, softer, louder, _Never your fault._

These are wounds that will not heal overnight. It used to be that there were no secrets between them—couldn’t be, honestly, when they lived inside each other’s heads—but that was before the clown had stolen every memory from them. They had, after all, spent more years apart than they had together and it is evident even now in the cobwebs that cling in the corners of Eddie’s mind that Richie has never seen before. It will take days, weeks, months, years, lifetimes before this itch has been soothed and the time has been made up for. 

Eddie shudders out a gasp, his breath fanning out against Richie’s hole again, and they both inhale at the feeling. It’s a reminder of the arousal pouring molten through their veins and suddenly Eddie’s thoughts go bright with it. 

_Let me make it up to you,_ he breathes, squeezing Richie’s hips. Richie whines. _Let me make you feel good, Richie, baby, let me make you feel so good you see stars. Please, honey._

Richie doesn’t know if he nods but there must be some approving tinge to his thoughts because Eddie pulls back, hunger echoing over the bond between them. He gets his hands on Richie’s thighs again, coaxing him down until the stretch burns through his hips and he is completely spread open for Eddie to look at. 

And look he does, back at Richie’s hole now, and Richie feels the way he licks his lips. _Gorgeous, Rich,_ he thinks, one dry thumb trailing down his perineum. Richie jerks, a shocked moan falling out of his throat. _Can’t believe you’re mine, fuck._

Eddie’s thoughts are pinging too quickly for Richie to follow, racing along in flurry of heat and desperation. But there’s something rising out of it that Richie can actually feel, a single thought that runs on repeat the longer Eddie looks: _prettypinksoftperfectmine._

Richie chokes, feeling his face flush even as he shoves it into the pillows. It’s too much, the vulnerability of having Eddie not only see him like this but feel him too, feel him where he cannot throw up walls, making him sticky and shaky with panic. He can’t get away like this, spread as he is on his knees, and Eddie feels everything anyways. 

“Hey, hey,” he says quietly, stroking his thumbs over Richie’s skin. “It’s just me.” 

Doesn’t he know that’s the problem? Doesn’t he know that Richie is terrified of Eddie seeing him like this? Doesn’t he know that Richie will never feel good enough to deserve him, especially not now that he is ugly and dirty with all of his mistakes? 

Richie sobs, fingers curling weakly into the bedspread, and hopes that it will swallow him whole. 

_Shh, shh, I’ve got you,_ Eddie soothes him, turning him over with gentle hands until he’s on his back, blinking hazily up at Eddie’s face. In the low light from the lamp, it is the most beautiful thing in the world. 

Eddie smiles, catching the thought as soon as it pops into Richie’s head. “I love you,” he murmurs, leaning down to press their foreheads together. Richie’s breath trembles in the space between them. “I’ve loved you since I was ten years old, Rich. I love every inch of you. And I’m going to love every new thing I find.” 

He kisses Richie before he can respond, before he can remember how to form words and ask the questions that plague his heart: _Am I worth it? Am I what you want? Will you still love me when you learn all that I have done? Will you still love me even if I don’t love myself?_

Eddie kisses and kisses and kisses him, deep and thorough and searching. His tongue slides against Richie’s, his hands threading into Richie’s hair and cradling the back of his head and keeping him close. Richie can do nothing but lay beneath the delicious weight of Eddie’s body and just take it. 

And through it all Eddie has wrenched their bond wide open, spilling thoughts at Richie fast enough he almost goes dizzy with it. They’re not words so much as they are images, overlaid on top of one another until they form one blur. There is the moment that they met, just ten years old, Richie’s eyes huge behind the thick lenses of his glasses and his hair messier than ever, a sense of belonging sliding into place in Eddie’s heart. There is their first kiss, thirteen, awkward and tentative but no less gorgeous for how much they had their own language, Eddie’s stomach swooping at the press of Richie’s mouth. There is the first time they tried anything like this, over too fast because they had forgotten how the pleasure would arch throughout their bond, amplifying the other’s until they dissolved. There is the last moment before Eddie left Derry, both of them clinging to each other tight enough to bruise; Eddie’s heart had cracked in two that day, one piece nestled safely in Richie’s hands even as the bond weakened and fell apart when their memories disappeared. There is the aching loneliness of not having Richie at his side, endlessly searching for him but not knowing what he is searching for in the first place. There is the first moment back at the Jade of the Orient, when Richie had rung the gong and their eyes had met and something had slotted back into place; for the first time in nearly three decades, having someone else’s thoughts in his head. 

Through it all, one word: _Yes._ Through it all: _You are everything to me._

Richie whimpers. It’s so much, the all-consuming feeling of Eddie’s love for him. When they were kids, Eddie had him pretty well-trained, insecurity not completely stamped out but flattened over in the force of Eddie’s belief in him. Now, that same belief is working wonders on flattening it again. 

Eddie’s hands drag down his chest, over his ribs and around his waist, and through it all there is a naked hunger burning bright through the bond. In it Richie can feel exactly how Eddie sees him: the broad strength of his shoulders, the hair covering his chest and arms and stomach, the soft padding all over his body that makes him big and beautiful and _Eddie’s._ He feels the way Eddie is attracted to every inch of his body, even and especially the parts Richie himself hates. He feels it all and gasps into Eddie’s mouth, trembling in the face of it. 

_So good for me,_ Eddie breathes, pulling away from their kiss to trail his lips down Richie’s jaw. _I love you, Rich, I promise I love you so much._

His lips and his teeth send fire sparking down Richie’s spine. The pleasure is ridiculously intense for how simple it is, but Eddie’s arousal is pulsing through the bond and riddling Richie’s brain. There are bruises blooming soft in the shape of Eddie’s name down Richie’s neck and chest, a smattering of red and pink and purple that say, as loudly as if he had shouted it: _this man is wholly and completely mine; you cannot have him._

It makes Richie ache to feel it, the area inside his ribs behind his heart expanding just in an attempt to fit it all. The force of Eddie’s love for him bowls him over. 

Eddie’s mouth curves into a smirk, his eyes dancing wickedly in the low light. “Can I show you, baby?” Quieter, _Can I show you how good you are?_

Weakly, Richie manages to nod. Eddie huffs a laugh and ducks forward to kiss him again, trailing his lips to his cheek and murmuring into the skin, “Hands and knees, sweetheart.” 

Richie’s shaky when he twists himself around, his trembling fingers fisting into the sheets. Eddie coaxes him down until he’s stretched out the same way that he was, knees spread wide and chest dipped low onto the mattress. It pulls him open in ways he’s never been before, exposed and vulnerable. It prickles at the base of his spine and behind his eyes but it’s easier to push away with the love dancing through the bond. 

_Gorgeous,_ Eddie thinks at him, running warm hands down his spine to grip his ass. _Can I use my mouth on you, baby?_

Richie whines into the sheets, pressing back into Eddie’s hands before his brain can catch up. Eddie chuckles softly behind him, leaning down over him and scraping his teeth over Richie’s ass, biting into the meat of it. Richie jerks, moaning, and Eddie does it again and again until there are marks here as well. 

This is a unique pleasure. They hadn’t done this when they were sixteen, too fumbling and too in their own heads to let anything like this happen. Eddie was still overwhelmingly terrified of dirt and germs and sickness and Richie was still overwhelmingly terrified of being seen. And none of the men in the interim had ever even thought of doing this for him, not that he really would have let them; he had known then, even with the gaps in his memory, that his bondmate was out there, and he knew him, and he just needed to find him. 

It’s a new experience for both of them but it doesn’t feel like it. Not when Eddie is spreading him open and pressing his tongue right over his hole, confident and unabashed. There’s no fear in his thoughts now. 

Richie whines again, going boneless into the sheets. Eddie licks over him, broad strokes of his tongue, before he slides the tip slowly along the edge of his hole and in. He stretches it as far as it will go, spreading Richie’s hole on it, hot and overwhelmingly slick. Richie shakes above him. 

It’s no surprise that Eddie eats ass with the same single-minded determination that he does everything. His mind is buzzing for it, listening closely for every reaction he can pull out of Richie and doubling down to do it again and again and again. He licks into Richie and curls his tongue inside of him, rubs it smooth and silky along his walls until Richie sobs. His chin and cheeks have the hint of scruff to them, rubbing raw at Richie’s thighs and crack until he’s shivery and stupid with the pleasure-bordering-pain. 

Eddie hums into him, smirking when it makes Richie keen. He can’t talk like this, mouth preoccupied as it is, but they’ve never needed words. His thoughts broadcast it all: how hot the noises Richie is making are, how sweetly his body is opening up for him, how much Eddie genuinely and thoroughly enjoys this. There’s soft wonder behind that one, awe and delight that he can make Richie fall apart like this and like doing it too. 

He licks and slurps and sucks until Richie’s dripping with it. He’s hungry for it, pressing into Richie’s mind to feel the pleasure with him, riling him up until he’s on the very edge before he pulls away. 

Richie whimpers, shaking in the face of his near-orgasm. “What the hell?” he gasps, shoving the impression of it at Eddie to emphasize how close he was. 

Eddie laughs. He spreads Richie’s ass further, hungrily staring down at his hole. Richie flushes at the image he picks up: red and wet and open, clenching to get something back inside. “Fuck, your ass,” he breathes. 

Richie grins, hiding his face in the sheets. _If you’d just hurry up, you could._

Eddie snorts, digging his nails in. “Patience is a virtue, Rich. You’ll get what you want.” He licks another broad stripe over Richie’s hole, grins when it makes Richie squirm. “Can I finger you?” 

It’s a formality of a question, because he has to be able to feel just how desperate Richie is and how much he will not say no. But Eddie has always been big on verbal consent, on making sure that Richie is comfortable and not being forced into anything, and it tracks that he’d be even more like that now that it’s been so long since this last happened. 

“Yeah, Eds,” Richie breathes, shutting his eyes tight before he opens up his mind: _Please finger me, please, I need you._

Eddie swears, a white-hot burst of arousal pulsing through the bond. For a moment, they both get lost in it, so much more intense than it was at sixteen. Is it because they’re older now? Is it because of the years in between now and then? Or is it because it’s _them_ , perfect and unshakeable? 

Either way, it’s gorgeous. Eddie makes a punched out noise, his brain reflecting back white static, before he lunges for the bedside table where the tiny bottle of lube is sitting. Richie laughs, so fond he feels dizzy with it. 

_Eager, are we?_ he asks, the mocking lilt to it completely broken by how in love he is. 

Eddie scowls; Richie doesn’t even need to see it to know it’s there. _Shut up, dickwad,_ he snaps back, ducking down again to land a sharp bite on Richie’s hip. _Don’t act like you aren’t too._

It’s a fair point, because Richie’s entire body is thrumming. He feels like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin in either nerves or anticipation or more honestly both at once, because he is so incredibly eager to get fucked but he’s also terrified it’ll be bad because they haven’t done this in years and what if he—

“Relax, Rich,” Eddie murmurs, out loud, warm and solid and reassuring. The weight of him has returned to the bed, settling between Richie’s hips, and one strong hand anchors itself on Richie’s thigh. “Everything’s okay.” 

It shouldn’t be enough to calm him down but it _is_ , because Eddie wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. He’s the worrier of their relationship but his thoughts are projecting nothing but love and calm and arousal, and—is that—? 

Richie whimpers, catching the thread of everything Eddie wants to do to him. It’s a long list, too long for just one night or even one year, and it’s incredibly, incredibly detailed. Enough that his skin is flushing at just the idea of it all, of being spread out and tied up and used for hours on end, drifting along in a haze of pleasure because he is _Eddie’s_ to do that to. 

Eddie huffs a laugh, amusement sparking between them. “You like that, baby?” His voice is rough, crushed velvet over hard steel, and hearing it makes Richie ache. “You’re mine, sweetheart, don’t ever forget that.” 

“Never,” Richie gasps back. He shivers, overwhelmed, shoving his face into the pillow to staunch the prickle of tears already threatening his eyes. He presses his ass back into Eddie’s hands, begging with every atom he has in his body for Eddie to just get on with it. 

Miraculously, he does. 

He starts small, just petting over Richie’s hole with one lube-slick finger even though Richie is plenty wet. He ignores Richie’s whines, he ignores the arousal he must feel through the bond, he ignores the way Richie rocks back into the gentle touch. He just keeps going until Richie goes lax, sinking into the mattress and going completely boneless beneath him. Then, and only then, does he allow one finger to slide inside, all the way in. 

Richie chokes, then whines. It’s not nearly enough but it’s something solid, a real part of Eddie that is pressed deep inside of him. It feels bone-shakingly good, like he is about to fall apart from this one simple touch, but he can feel the way it is affecting Eddie too. 

_You’re perfect,_ Eddie says, giving a tiny wiggle with his hand. They both moan at the feeling. _Fuck, baby, if you could see yourself right now._

_Technically, I can._ Richie’s grin is short-lived, falling from his lips with a yelp when Eddie rewards him with a sharp thrust in, smooth and slick with the amount of lube he used. 

It’s only a moment later that he slides a second finger in, loose and relaxed as Richie is against the sheets. It’s better, more substantial, something thicker for Richie to grind back on. Richie whines with the stretch. 

_You look so good,_ Eddie murmurs to him. His composure is slipping now, the arousal seeping into his words and blurring the edges between them. Unconsciously, his hips grind forward against Richie’s thigh. _How’s that feel, sweetheart? Does it feel good?_

It’s a pointless question, not just because Richie is whimpering into the pillows with every movement of Eddie’s fingers inside of him. Eddie can feel everything that Richie is feeling, as close as they are: the stretch and build of Eddie’s fingers, the scraping pleasure against his rim, the desperation burning molten through his veins. He just wants Richie to say it. 

There’s no way that he can, though, stuck inside his own head. Especially not when Eddie shifts the angle, rubs the pads of his fingers against Richie’s prostate, grinning when it makes Richie shout. He doesn’t ease off afterwards, relentless in his attempts to drive Richie insane. 

Richie squirms, groaning deep in his chest when Eddie carefully slides in a third finger. His entire being is reduced only to where he’s stretched around Eddie’s fingers, the raw and wet feeling taking over his brain until there is nothing but Eddie. He’s desperate for it, hips chasing Eddie’s fingers whenever they pull out, tummy tensing in anticipation. He needs something thicker, he needs something closer, he needs— 

_Do you want my cock, baby?_ Eddie’s voice is soft, gentle in the face of everything Richie’s feeling. He sobs, nodding viciously. 

“Please, please, please Eds, I want it so bad, _please_ —” 

He’s babbling, fully out of his mind now, and Eddie shushes him, gently turning him back onto his back. He hasn’t had his glasses this entire time but he doesn’t need to see for this; he finds Eddie anyways, arching up into his kiss and cupping Eddie’s cheeks in his palms. 

“I’ll give you everything, Rich,” Eddie mumbles into his mouth, settling between his spread thighs. His hand is strong on Richie’s hip, the other slicking himself up with more lube than he really needs. They shudder at the light touch on his neglected cock. “I’ll give you the world, I’ll give you everything you want.” 

Richie grins wetly, tipping their foreheads together. _I’ve already got everything I want, Spaghetti._

Eddie doesn’t even roll his eyes at the nickname. There’s too much love in the air, too much magic spreading between them. The broken edges of their hearts are sewing back together, stitching across the divide in their bodies to thread the two of them to each other. The air is electric with it, crackling around them in burst of lightning. 

Eddie keeps their foreheads together, mouths a hair’s breadth apart, as he slowly sinks inside. 

And Richie knew that this was coming but that doesn’t mean it’s not overwhelming to finally have it. Eddie’s cock sinks into him inch by glorious inch, thick and hot and unyielding, and there’s a swooping sensation in his stomach. He’s panting by the time their hips meet, shivery with how full he feels. Eddie is pushing out all the empty spaces, filling him up until he’s certain he’ll burst. 

It’s so intense, can’t not be when their pleasure bounces back the way it does, two people’s pleasure condensed into one. Richie can feel where he’s stuffed full with Eddie’s cock, the aching stretch of it and how Eddie fills him up so good, so deep, so unbelievably well. His body burns for it. But he also has to feel where he’s gripped around Eddie, hot and tight and wet, the slick clinging slide heavenly. He has to feel how Eddie shudders, struggling to keep his hips still while Richie adjusts. 

He whines, arching his back into Eddie. One of Eddie’s hands braces on the bed next to Richie’s shoulder, the muscles straining under his weight, and the other goes to cradle the back of Richie’s head, keeping their foreheads tucked together as finally, finally he starts to move. 

It’s a smooth slide for a long time, pleasurable and almost lazy. It burns Richie hotter, desperate for Eddie to fuck him into the mattress, but Eddie just keeps kissing him, long and slow to match the thrusts of his hips. 

Richie wants to throw his head back, maybe grind his hips down to speed things up, but Eddie’s tight grip on him gives him no leverage to do so. He’s the bigger of the two of them but like this, Richie’s thighs hitched high around Eddie’s waist, Eddie covers him completely. It makes him feel safe, it makes him feel protected, it makes him remember that Eddie knows him as intimately as he knows his own mind. Now, here, this thought is no longer terrifying. 

Eddie gasps, catching the words even before they form. He’s watery, soft and brightly loving, his hips starting to move faster. _Love you, sweetheart,_ he promises, before he pulls back to put his weight into it. 

Now, his thrusts turn deep and hard, pounding Richie down into the sheets. Both of them are moaning, loud enough that Richie is vaguely sorry for the rest of the Losers, but it’s too good for him to think about that for long. 

Eddie’s hips shift, just barely, and suddenly he’s fucking directly into Richie’s prostate. Richie yells, clenches down automatically, and Eddie swears at the burst of pleasure. He fucks into Richie like he’s trying to carve out a place for himself inside of Richie’s body, like he could drill away at him until there was room to stay forever. Richie wonders how to say that Eddie has always had a home inside of him; his heart beats in the rhythm of Eddie’s name. 

Richie is so far beyond the capability of words, but he hopes he’s projecting to Eddie anyways. Hopes that Eddie can sense just how amazing he feels, how good and full and safe under the bulk of Eddie’s body. How this is the happiest he has been in a very long time, if not the happiest he’s ever been. How he would go through it all again, the stolen memories, the long years away from each other, the bitter fight to the very end, if only it would mean that he ends up right here. 

Eddie sobs, pitching forward on his elbows. This close, he doesn’t get much leverage but it’s perfect anyways, a slow dirty grind that makes Richie’s spine light up. He pants, keening into the open air, gripping tight to Eddie’s biceps. 

_I love you,_ Eddie says, choked, tears shining in his bambi eyes. Through the bond comes this: _I never knew I could feel this good. I never knew I could feel this loved._

The emotions swirl into Richie’s, climbing up his chest until his eyes are damp too. He wants nothing more than to hide his face but he barrels through it, keeping his eyes locked with Eddie’s. 

_I love you so fucking much,_ Richie says back, as equally strained and watery. His back arches on Eddie’s next thrust, pleasure sparking over his skin. _You’re everything._

He has never felt this kind of vulnerability before. Here he is, fully bare for Eddie, and Eddie has not run away. 

_Never going anywhere,_ Eddie growls, shoving their hips together harder. Richie screams with it. _Be by your side forever, no one can fucking move me away, you’re_ mine—

His thrusts are turning quick and erratic, his orgasm pulling up from the base of his spine. His pleasure is an amplifier for Richie’s, his own stomach burning hotter and hotter with every stroke of Eddie’s cock inside of him. It’s so good, it’s too good, Richie thinks he might fly apart—

There are tears falling from both of their eyes now, soaking down their cheeks and into their hair. Their mouths meet again, slick and clumsy, and Eddie’s tongue curls around his own. He’s so distracted by the press of Eddie’s lips that he doesn’t notice Eddie’s hand until it wraps tight around his cock, and Richie fractures. 

His head rips back, so violently his throat twinges in pain, but he can’t focus on it through the roaring in his ears. He’s screaming, he knows he’s screaming, because Eddie’s cock keeps fucking inside of him and his hand is still gripping his dick and there is come striping up Richie’s chest. The pleasure is white-hot through his belly. 

Eddie snarls, fucking into the tight clutch of his hole, and then he’s coming too, Richie’s orgasm dragging it from his mind. The pleasure bounces in bright bursts over the bond until they aren’t separate people anymore, two halves drawn into one whole. His come fills Richie up, soothes an ache deep inside of him, raw and wet and hot. It is a claim from the inside out. 

It takes them a while to calm down. Richie’s skin is still buzzing by the time Eddie shifts, holding himself up on one elbow so he can cup Richie’s face in his hand, tilting his chin down to kiss him. 

“Hey,” he mumbles, smiling wide enough that his dimple creases deep into his cheek. 

Richie smiles back, tracing the shape of that dimple with his thumb. “Hi.” _I love you._

Eddie huffs a soft laugh, turning his head to kiss Richie’s palm. _I love you too, Rich._

He shifts again, getting his knees underneath him to carefully, carefully pull out. Richie whines at the feeling, oversensitivity sparking up his spine, but once Eddie’s gone there is a devastating feeling of emptiness. He feels a little bit lost and alone, even with Eddie in his thoughts, and he misses the comfort of Eddie inside of him. Not for pleasure, not right now, but maybe—

Eddie hisses in surprise, nearly pitching forward before his hands shoot out to catch him. _Fuck, sweetheart, you’re going to kill me. Of course I will. Anything you want, remember?_

He pushes off the bed before Richie can really respond, hurrying into the bathroom to grab something to clean them up with because neither of them could stand long enough for a shower right now. He isn’t gone long at all, coming back to gently wipe a soft washcloth over Richie’s chest and stomach and coaxing him up to drink some water. Richie is jelly through it, letting Eddie push and pull him in any direction he likes. 

He’s tired now, the stress of the past several days and his earth-shattering orgasm pulling at him, and Eddie isn’t much better. He’s yawning by the time he climbs into the bed, sliding them under the covers and away from the wet spot. It’s gross, objectively, and Eddie’s brain is itching because of it, but both of them are too exhausted to really think of moving again. 

Eddie tugs him in, presses his chest against Richie’s back. He kisses Richie’s shoulder, smooths over his hip, whispers, “Still want it?” 

Richie will always want it. He nods, biting his lip as Eddie reaches for the discarded bottle of lube, slicking himself up before he oh so carefully feeds his softened cock into Richie’s hole. 

They both moan softly once Eddie’s hips press into Richie’s ass. It’s not about the pleasure, not really. It’s the closeness, the intimacy, the comfort of knowing the other is right there. Richie sniffles with it, grabbing Eddie’s hand and dragging it around him to cradle their palms against his chest. 

Eddie kisses the back of his neck, nuzzles the hair at the the base of Richie’s skull. He’s quiet for several long moments before he whispers, “I’m sorry I left.” 

Richie goes still. He can feel the guilt and the anger still swirling in Eddie’s chest, pronounced now with no pleasure to hide it. He shakes his head, presses back into Eddie’s body. “It wasn’t your fault, Eds. You had to go with your mom.” 

But Eddie’s shaking his head already, his hand curling into a fist in Richie’s grip. “But I could’ve pushed harder to stay. We were _bondmates_ , Rich, she didn’t have the right to do that.” 

Richie blows out a sigh. “She didn’t,” he agrees, stroking his thumb over Eddie’s knuckles. “But that’s still not your fault. You were a kid and she was your _mom_. What else could’ve happened?”

Eddie whimpers, a tiny sound. “I could’ve stayed. We could’ve been together. We could’ve had each other this whole time.”

Richie pushes as much love as he can through the bond, trying to show just how much he will never blame Eddie for what happened. He feels Eddie tense up and then start to relax, his fist uncurling against Richie’s chest. 

“It’s not your fault,” Richie whispers, closing his eyes. Behind his eyelids he sees him and Eddie at sixteen, saying goodbye. It’s not as painful anymore. “It was never your fault. It’s—blame the bitchass clown, Eds. _He’s_ the reason we lost each other. Not you.” 

Eddie is silent for several moments. His brain is moving too fast for Richie to keep up, images and words flashing by. Finally, he snorts. _Fuck the clown._

Richie laughs, loud and bright and surprised. He tips his head back so his and Eddie’s cheeks press together. “Fuck the clown,” he agrees, grinning. 

It will take much more than this for Eddie to stop blaming himself. It will take much more than this for Richie’s walls to fully come down. It will take much more than this to heal the wounds the past twenty-odd years have given them. But this is a good place to start. After all, they’ve got nothing but time. 

It’s easier to sink into it now, both of them quiet and content. Eddie wraps completely around him, body and mind and soul, and his cock pushes just slightly deeper into Richie. He can feel Eddie’s thoughts in the background of his own, keeping him company. 

“You’re mine,” Eddie whispers fiercely, stroking his palm up Richie’s chest. “And no one is taking you from me ever again.” 

_Yeah,_ Richie thinks, pressing further into Eddie’s grip and letting sleep overtake him. _I’d like to see them try._

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading!! i love u <3
> 
> come be my friend on [tumblr](https://19tozier.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/19tozier)


End file.
